Miscarriage and Mother's Day

Emptiness. That’s the feeling I remember most. In the place of where a heartbeat should have been, there was nothing; leaving my own heart with a feeling of emptiness.

It was Mother’s Day weekend almost ten years ago that I lost this precious child, but time has not made the very real memory of it all fade away. How can you be so absolutely in love with a little life that has only existed for a few short weeks? I’m not sure how to explain it, but you can. 

I remember breaking down in tears at the hospital as they drew my blood and conducted tests to further prove what I already knew to be true, I had experienced a miscarriage. And then, to my surprise, a second heartbeat. I had miscarried a twin.

I have heard of other women miscarrying a twin. I have also heard of the “Vanishing Twin Syndrome”. But I have never personally known another woman who has experienced this. Apparently the people in our community during this time were not familiar with this happening and awkwardly offered up their condolences by saying things like “I’m really sorry, but at least you still have one baby in there!”

The truth is, no matter how thankful we were that the Lord allowed us to carry and deliver our precious son, Ezra, we still grieved over the loss of our other child. I still dream of what it would have been like to have twins. I still wonder how life would have been as “Huggins party of five.” We have never forgotten.

Because we had picked out both a boy name and a girl name for this pregnancy, and because we were able to deliver our boy, we gave our lost baby the remaining name, Abigail. And we have never forgotten her.

For our family, a life is a life no matter how small. Every year as Mother’s Day approaches I can’t help but be so very thankful for the family God has given me. Every day, and especially on Mother’s Day, I also can’t help but remember all of my babies, both here on earth and in heaven.

Going through the experience of having a miscarriage has given me a new perspective and a depth of understanding that I believe some people just do not possess. So, as Mother’s Day approaches, here are just a few things I hope you will keep in mind:

We Never Forget Our Babies:

I can remember the shirt I was wearing, the sterile smell of the doctor’s office, and the nauseating pit in my stomach. I vividly remember the long trip from the doctor’s office to the hospital as my husband and I were clutched hand in hand. I remember my mom driving eight hours to be by my side as I laid crying on my living room couch. I remember the feeling of loss.

It’s not every day that I think about Abigail, but it’s often. Probably more often than you might think. And I would venture to guess that if you know someone who has had a miscarriage, whether early on in pregnancy or further along, they never forget. Our children are a part of us forever, even if they were with us for only a short while.

This Kind of Loss Can Be Lonely:

It was my experience that people did not know exactly what to say, so for the most part, they said nothing at all. Because I was only a few weeks into my pregnancy, I remember feeling as though others might believe I was making too big of a deal about our loss. As if somehow I did not have valid reason to fall apart for a while after this loss of life, especially because I still was carrying the surviving twin.

I will tell you, this kind of loss can be lonely. So, I implore you friends, if you know of someone who has experienced a miscarriage, be there for them. If you worry about what to say, say that you love them through your actions. Sit with them, cook for them, and acknowledge the life that you know they have lost because it is very real to them. It is a different kind of lonely to go through a miscarriage alone.

Our God is a God Who Sees:

To the mother who has lost a child, God sees you. We may never know this side of heaven why the Lord gives and takes away, but I am thankful that He sees us through our pain and grief. I am thankful that He acknowledges the life of our little ones, because He is the giver of life and is infinitely aware of our loss. God sees our sorrow. He sees our broken hearts and is able to mend them. We are never alone. The Lord is good to carry us through those times when we feel others just cannot see or possibly understand. He sees you.

As this Mother’s Day approaches, I hope you will remember those who have babies both here on earth and also in heaven. I promise you, they are remembering all of their babies on this special day. Because a life is a life no matter how small and each child reserves a special place in its mother’s heart, forever.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” 

 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

 

 

 

 

 

 

To the Teacher's Aide in My Son's Special Education Classroom: I See What You Are Doing

As the parent of a child with special needs, I cannot help but be an overemotional ball of overprotectiveness most of the time. I have decided that this is not a downfall, it’s my job. I must be my child’s voice, until he finds his own. I must be my child’s eyes, until he can tell me what goes on around him each day. I must be wise and very discerning of the people I allow to surround my child, because he cannot tell me for himself how they treat him. I must be my child’s advocate on every front, because that is the sacred calling that the Lord has hand-picked for me.

It is because of this sacred calling, that I watch and I protect. And I want to send this message to the teacher’s aide in my son’s Special Education Classroom: I See What You Are Doing.

I see you early in the morning as you greet my little boy in the drop off lane at school. I see how you smile with excitement about another day as he wraps his little arms and legs around you when you lift him out of our car. I see you in class pictures sitting with my child in your lap. I see how he loves to give you hugs and kisses your cheek. I see the gentle hand you use to help guide him into the classroom and how you keep a watchful eye on him to make sure he is always safe. I see the pre-cut triangles and squares that you helped to prepare for my little one to learn with.

I know that you have been there for my child as he struggles to the ground in an Autistic meltdown. I heard how you placed your hands under his head to help protect it from the hard ground. I know that you have walked the empty halls a million times with my little one to help calm his overwhelmed mind. I know that you help my child with the smallest of tasks such as cutting up his food, drinking from a cup, eating his food, going to the bathroom, and washing his clothes after a sensory activity that he had a little too much fun with.  You have learned his personality, his quirks, his strengths and his weaknesses.  Yes, I can see what you are doing.

You are building a relationship with a precious child that longs for connection. You are growing trust in a little boy who feels as though the world is coming at him every second of the day. You are pouring yourself into a child that can rarely offer up a “thank you.”

Let me remind you of something that you already know: my child is brilliant. He can sense love and compassion a mile away. On the other hand, he also knows immediately if someone feels uncomfortable around him or if they are working with him because they have to verses if they want to. Ezra does not learn well in a hostile or begrudging situation. He has to feel comfortable with the people that surround him. You are partially responsible for creating an atmosphere that is conducive to my child’s ability to learn. Thank you for loving him so well. Yes, I can see what you are doing.

I know you have days that are rewarding. I can see the love and trust my child has for you and I hope you can see that too. I also know you have days that are exhausting and so very discouraging. Thank you for not giving up. Because of your unconditional love for children like mine, my little boy knows that each day is a new day and that he is worth showing up for.

Yes, I see what you are doing. Your hard work does not go unnoticed. My child notices you. I notice you. Because God has given me this incredible gift of being the protector of my special boy, I watch so very carefully. Because my precious child cannot verbally tell me about his experience at school, I cannot help but take in every little detail about what I see. And I see what you are doing.

I am not sure what the world’s perception is about a Special Education or Life Skills Teacher’s Aide. I’m not sure if people realize all that you do. I believe that one of the most overlooked and underpaid positions is that of a Special Education Paraprofessional. If I could, I would give each one of you a big raise and a superhero cape. But because I cannot, all I can offer is my heartfelt gratitude. I want you to know that I see what you are doing, and I am so thankful for you.

As I write this, I count myself so very blessed that it brings tears to my eyes. Ezra has such an amazing PPCD teacher who works tirelessly with Ezra and with our family to make sure that he succeeds (more about that in another upcoming blog). But, over the years Ezra has also had multiple teacher’s aides in each of his classrooms who have had a tremendous impact on him and his success in the classroom. Each of them have thrown themselves in 100% to loving and caring for children like mine. They could have not cared so much, but they did. It is because of these amazing professionals (and his awesome teachers) that my son has had an environment of support and love. I have no doubt that Ezra would not have overcome and learned as much as he already has without these incredible educators. If you work in a special education classroom, PRESS ON! Your work does not go unnoticed. I see what you are doing!

Ezra at school. As I understand it, it was the normally scheduled time for Ezra's class to go outside. Ezra lined up, on his shape, all on his own because he is super smart like that. I can just imagine him thinking "Don't they realize what time it is!? They are going to make me late!"

Ezra at school. As I understand it, it was the normally scheduled time for Ezra's class to go outside. Ezra lined up, on his shape, all on his own because he is super smart like that. I can just imagine him thinking "Don't they realize what time it is!? They are going to make me late!"

Making the Most of Mud Puddles

It’s summertime and everywhere you look there are people talking about, posting pictures about, and planning their family’s summer activities. My husband and I recently had a conversation where we committed ourselves to not just letting the summer days slip by, but to be intentional about “making memories” with our children during this time. Make no mistake; I said “making memories” not “spending lots of money.” So, we did what every great set of parents do who are on a shoestring budget for summer…we bought a kiddie pool.

We set the red and blue fish-themed pool up in our backyard and ran the water in it. We even went “all out” and bought a tarp to put down underneath the pool so our children would have a place to step when getting in and out of their water wonderland of fun. Oh yes, memories are going to be made here! We had the kids dressed in their bathing suites and turned them loose! Both kids lit up with excitement as their eyes beheld their new “making memories” pool. Summer had officially begun!

I began to notice something about Ezra. Although my sweet boy (who loves the water) had a great time splashing and playing in his little pool, he started dumping buckets of water outside of the pool. He was very busy. Instead of giving into the “Corrective Momma” side of myself, I watched. I watched as he worked very hard. It didn’t seem as though he was carelessly throwing water out of the pool, he obviously had a mission to complete…I wanted to know what it was! Finally, Ezra set his water bucket aside, climbed out of the pool, and huddled himself into a perfect little mud hole. He was so proud of himself! He grinned from ear to ear as he sat hunched over in the mud puddle he had worked so hard to create. Periodically throughout our playtime he would jump in the “making memories” kiddie pool we had bought, but most of the time he preferred his very own, Ezra made, very full mud puddle.

That’s when it happened. He came and got me and led me right to his very special, very large mud puddle. Now, for those of you who have never met me personally, I am not exactly a let’s-go-sit-in-mud kind of girl. But can I tell you something? When your four year old, Autistic son says “Come!” and leads you to a mud puddle, and when he pulls your arm down towards the mud puddle, and when he plops himself down in that mud puddle and looks back up at you with big please-come-sit-with-me eyes…YOU ARE GOING TO SIT IN THE MUD PUDDLE!

So, I sat in Ezra’s mud puddle. A look of complete delight filled my son’s face. It was as if he was saying “Yes Mom, you get me! This was exactly what I was wanting. I wanted to share my puddle with you! Isn’t it great?!” He sat down in my lap and gave me great big kisses…while we sat in the big ‘ol mud puddle, beside the “making memories” pool.

As I sat in the mud puddle (Ezra kept me there for quite a while), the Lord laid something on my heart as He often does through everyday life circumstances. Here we were, sitting in mud, next to a pool of clean water. It only makes sense that the desirable place to be would be in the pool where the water is clean, and clear, and where you can see all the little creepy crawler things that crawl around outside (amen?)! …But the blessing was in the mud puddle. There in the mud puddle was “connection” between me and my mostly non-verbal son. There in the mud puddle were hugs and kisses that I would have otherwise missed out on. There in the mud puddle I sat never having been so thankful to be covered in mud in all my life.  It wasn’t comfortable for me. I didn’t like the mud. I HATE bugs…and you know they had to have been swimming in that puddle somewhere with me. Sitting in the puddle did not seem to make the most sense…But the blessing was in the mud puddle.

Can I tell you that there are some other “mud puddles” in my life right now? They are situations or circumstances that are just not comfortable. I don’t like some of these circumstances that I find myself in.  Some of the “mud puddles” in my life feel very threatening. Some of the “mud puddles” look like they could possibly be giant sink holes. Many “mud puddles” in life do not seem to make sense.  But what if there are blessings in the “mud puddles” of life?

I do not want to miss out on all that the Lord has in store for me and what He wants to accomplish in and through me, all because I am too focused on the “mud puddles” around me. I do not want to miss out on the blessings that the “mud puddles” hold.  What if the purpose of the “mud puddle” is to share my faith with a doctor or radiologist? What if the purpose of the “mud puddle” is to reach out to someone I otherwise may not have spoken to? What if the purpose of the “mud puddle” is to teach me to depend completely on the Lord to supply our family’s needs?

Certainly, there is joy to be had and thanksgiving to be given when life is clear and much less muddy. My prayer for you and for me is to be encouraged to find the blessings in the midst of the “mud puddles”; when life is a little less…clear.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. "                James 1:2-4

Grace and Ezra in their "making memories" kiddie pool. I would love to have taken a picture of Ezra in his mud puddle for you all, but every time I got near the puddle he would pull me back down into it!

Grace and Ezra in their "making memories" kiddie pool. I would love to have taken a picture of Ezra in his mud puddle for you all, but every time I got near the puddle he would pull me back down into it!

The Window

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There he sat starring out our living room window. He sat there for at least thirty minutes. Some of the time he was silent and some of the time he chattered away in his own little language. I wondered what he saw. I wondered what it was that had so captivated his attention.

It’s interesting isn't it?  It’s interesting how two people (regardless of ability or disability), can look out of the same window, and yet they see such different things.  

I love to keep my windows open. The first thing I notice when I look out my window is the sky. I love how the heavens declare the glory of the mighty God that I serve with their inaudible praise. Then, I might notice how the sunlight perfectly shines on each drop of dew on the grass. I notice the motion of the wind and I notice how the leaves have been swept across the drive from the night before. I take all this in and it refreshes my soul.

And so I wondered, on this day that my precious son sat beside the window, what is it that he sees? Because he cannot tell me, I speculate…Does he take it all in as one beautiful picture? Or does he look at each tiny detail? Every blade of grass? Every cloud in the sky? Does it bring joy to his soul as it does to mine, to marvel at the beauty of God’s creation each day? Or does it overwhelm him to take in so much? What does he see?

In many ways, this is what life is like when you have a child with Autism. You are both looking out the same window, and yet you are both seeing such different things. Ezra and I live in the same world, but the way we experience it is so very different.

As much as I want Ezra to see what I see, experience what I experience, feel how I feel, learn the way I learn, and love the way I love, it is not always that easy. What’s even more, who says that there is one “right” way to experience life? I have learned far more, grown far more as a person, and have developed a deeper level of compassion and love by trying my hardest to learn about Ezra’s world instead of demanding he conform to mine.

Certainly there is an importance for him to learn from an educational and behavioral standpoint. I am so very thankful for the group of amazing teachers and therapists that have rallied around our sweet boy to help him achieve his very best. But as he learns from us, we must never forget that there is so much for all of us to learn from him. He has a beautiful mind that is constantly at work. What a tragedy it would be for us to take for granted the blessing of a precious child because he does not fit into the cookie cutter of what society deems as “normal” or “acceptable”.

I want to become a student of my children. I want to see what they see when they look out the “windows of life”.

About a week after my little boy had sat so fascinated at the living room window, my little girl sat with her play computer at the very same windowsill and was “working” hard. I asked what she was working so hard on and she replied “I’m working on my blog”. (I have no idea where she got that from)

As she sat and banged away on the keyboard of her little toy computer, she began to “read to me” the blog she was working so hard to write…

“My brother has Autism. I don’t know why God let him have Autism. But that’s ok. I guess He let him have Autism so that I could help him and love him. Sometimes my “Ezra Brother” struggles, but I am here to help. The end.”

Grace lives in the same world as you and I. Grace sees the world differently than most six year olds do. Why? Because our family has embarked on a beautiful, but sometimes very hard, life-long journey of Autism. Grace’s experiences as the older sibling of a baby brother with Autism has caused her to think about things, pray about things, and see things differently than many children her age.

Sometimes, it’s good to try to “see” what others see when they look out the windows of life. We can all learn so very much from each other.  Our faith, our life experiences, our victories, and our defeats all contribute to how we each “see” life.  We would be wise to become students of one another. We would be wise to celebrate the beauty of a mind that “sees” differently.




A God Who Sees

Lord, you are near.

When my son’s disability weighs upon my heart, I am reminded that You have the ability to accomplish every purpose you have planned for him.

I do not fully understand the world in which my little boy lives, but You do. I do not know his thoughts and do not know all his ways, but You do. You love him with a love that is beyond all comprehension. You go before him. You know him by name. Even when he hides himself in the darkest corner, You see him. There is no place he can run that would escape the view of his loving Heavenly Father.

You rejoice over the smallest of his accomplishments. It brings a smile to Your face when he dances to songs of praise. And oh, how it must fill Your heart with joy when he whispers one of the few words he knows by heart, “Jesus.”

Yes, he is fearfully and wonderfully made. He was made in Your image. He is Your child. I praise You that You are a God that loves with an unconditional love in a world full of conditions. I trust that You reveal Yourself to him and that he knows You in his own very special way. Lord, I ask that You wrap Your loving arms around him so that he may feel secure, calm his mind and his heart so that he can experience peace, and give him the strength to break through the barriers that overwhelm him so.

Lord, I thank you that I am not on this journey alone. When I feel stretched in every direction, You calm my spirit. When the demands of life begin to overwhelm, I am reminded that You are life. I can trust in Your word. I can claim your truths in my life.

As I strive, stretch, and search for daily strength, I am never on my own. My prayers do not go unheard. You collect every tear that I've cried. When my son softly touches my face with his little hands, You are there. When he flashes his beautiful smile, You smile too. Every step taken, word spoken, kiss given, and hug offered is a victory that You rejoice over with me. When I lay awake in bed and listen to my child’s unsettling screams and sounds, You are there. Though I can sometimes be physically worn, You are the healer of my soul. When frustrations and fears creep in, it is You who offers peace. You know my heart even when I cannot put into words the burden it carries. No words are needed in the presence of the Lord Almighty because You know your children.  

I praise You that You are a God who sees. There is nothing that goes unnoticed by You. Even with all of the cleaned up spills, picked up toys, kissed boo boos, refilled sippy cups, and sandwiches made, You are there. In the moments of aggression, meltdowns, stares from strangers, comments, crying, and throwing, You do not turn Your head. You are near. You are ever constant.

This journey of Autism is not an easy one. This journey of Autism is a life long journey. Lord, I thank you that we are not in this alone. I praise you for the sweet victories. I praise you for the storms. Thank you that You are a God who sees. Let this be a journey that brings glory, honor, and praise to Your name. Amen.

 

I See

Ezra doesn’t have many words. At least, not near as many words as other children his age. It’s just part of the whole package being “on the spectrum”. Communication has always been hard. 

Ever since Ezra was a little baby, when I sensed his frustration in being understood, I would hold him up right in front of my face and say “I see you, Ezra”.  It didn’t have an instant calming effect on him or anything spectacular but it was my way of letting him know that I knew he was there, I knew he was frustrated, and he had my attention. This has become something I do quite often. It also serves as a great reminder to myself…  See him. He is not just throwing a fit or being unruly. He is frustrated. He wants to be seen. He wants to be understood. Look past the hitting, screaming, spitting, and fighting…and SEE HIM. 

Eye contact has always been hard as well. However, even if it’s just for a split second, when I focus my eyes on my sweet boy’s eyes and tell him “I see you, Ezra”, he almost always will at least throw a small glance in my direction. 

The moments when Ezra lets me in to his world and we are able to share a laugh at something, when I am able to understand what he wants, or simply being able to make eye contact, these moments are priceless. I forever treasure them. On the days when Ezra struggles more I find myself watching with a sort of desperate curiosity… what is he thinking? What is he trying to cope with? I wonder why he does one thing and not another? How can I help? I think these questions are good. Never stop asking questions. Never stop trying to “see”.  

There is a part of Ezra that is locked away and trying so very hard to find its way out. Never stop asking the “I See” questions. I want to be sure that my sweet baby knows that “I See” past the behavior, “I See” a precious little boy, “I See” a boy that God has a specific plan and purpose for, “I See” his struggling, and “I WILL See” that he has all of the love, support, encouragement, and help that we can possibly give him.

Go figure that one of the few two word “sentences” that Ezra goes around saying is a repetitive “I see, I see, I see.”  I see you too sweet boy. I may not always understand, but I see you and want to learn more and more about you each day.  

Just a thought:  Don’t we all want to been seen and understood? No matter who you are, I believe we all have these desires. Aren’t you glad that the Lord sees us? He knows the desires of our hearts, our struggles, our triumphs… and despite knowing everything about us he loves us unconditionally. Thank you Lord, that you notice us and you love us! All of us. No matter what.